“Vax brings me news of his brother and assures himself I am safe. He does not love me.”
“In that, my lady Miam,” said Vax’s voice as he stepped into the room, “you wound me sore. You do me an injustice.”
“Oh, yes, Vax, I know! But you know what I mean.”
“I do.” He looked at me and had the grace to look suddenly confused and to look away sharply.
I said, “If you do anything stupid like this again, I’ll tan your backside myself.”
He bridled. His hand whipped to his sword — to that superb Krozair brand I had given him. His lips pouted into a sullen droop, and his head snapped erect, his eyes glaring.
“Do not think I would not, Vax, for all you are a great warrior now. Anyway, you did not think to bring any food for your friends.”
“Come, come,” said this Miam’s uncle, spreading his arms
